


Oo-de-lally

by Sarahtoo



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Crack, Ridiculous, Robin Hood AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:34:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22405777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: Robin Hood has taken the bait the prince and the sheriff of Nottingham set out, and is attending an archery tournament in the hopes of getting a kiss from the prince's ward. Let's hope the best laid plans don't take their hell-ward turn today.
Relationships: Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Comments: 21
Kudos: 58
Collections: Miss Fisher's Flashfic Challenge Heat 2





	Oo-de-lally

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Robin Hood AU for the flashfic challenge. I will admit that although I love the Robin Hood story for itself (I even wrote a research paper on it back in the day), my very favorite version is the Disney one. I hope that doesn't come through too clearly here. XD

_“Come one, come all! There is to be a contest of archery skill, and the winner will take home a pouch of gold and congratulations directly from Prince George’s ward!”_

The call had gone out in all of the hamlets of Nottinghamshire over a week before, and Phryne had known immediately that it was a trap. She’d managed to intercept a particularly large shipment of the gold the Sheriff had “liberated” from the peasantry, and Prince George was finally fed up. She couldn’t blame him, really, since she really was rather a thorn in his side. If only Queen Prudence would return from the continent to wrest the reins from her brother’s greedy grasp, the need for Phryne’s services would evaporate. If the thought made her a little sad, no one needed to know that but her.

“Keep up, Dot!” Phryne’s words were unnecessary—Dot was right behind her, as always, threading her way through the crowd. 

Neither of them was moving as easily as usual, and Phryne missed the freedom of movement provided by the male garb they’d spent the last several months sporting in an effort to misdirect the Sheriff of Nottingham’s men as to their sex. Today, Dot’s ample bosom was beautifully displayed by a gown of deep rusty red (Dot had blushed a deeper scarlet than Mac’s hair when she first tried it, but Phryne had managed to convince her that the distraction of her charms was necessary to this caper), drawing all attention to her. No one would be calling her “little” Dot today.

Phryne’s deep blue gown had a higher neckline and looser sleeves—she’d need the freedom of movement for the upcoming challenge—but was no less flattering. Phryne tried never to look less than her best, and today that was possibly more important than ever. If she was to be “congratulated” by Prince George’s ward, she wanted to present herself well. Jack would expect no less.

Truth be told, Jack would probably be exceedingly exasperated by the fact that she was coming out for this event at all. He knew her skill, and he’d know she’d recognize the trap inherent in this invitation—she knew he’d be hoping that she’d just let it pass. He should know better, really. 

“Please miss, can we slow down a little?” Dot’s words were a sibilant hiss in Phryne’s ear. “I haven’t worn a corset this tight for months, and I’m a little afraid I’ll pass out if we’re not careful.”

“Nonsense, Dot, you never forget how to manage something like that. It’s like riding a pony. Once you’ve learned it, the knowledge never goes away.” Phryne slowed a little, though, because to be honest, her own breathing was shorter than she liked. She wouldn’t want to make her appearance out of breath. She thought she heard Dot mutter “I hate ponies” but dismissed it—no one could hate ponies. 

At last, they reached the contest grounds, and Phryne stopped to scan. The targets were set up at three distances from the line that had been painted along the front edge of stands that were already crowded with chattering people. To one side, a large tent had been erected, and chairs were set up out front, including one with a tall back and a thick red cushion.

“Very royal, George,” Phryne murmured, continuing to look for the man she’d come here to see. Instead, she found Sheriff Rosie Sanderson standing straight and tall in a group of guardsmen at the near side of the tent. Rosie was in her element, directing the men to their posts—Phryne could tell by the angle of her head that Rosie had a plan to capture the notorious bandit “Robin Hood” (simpler to say than her given name, and a step removed from it as well) and that she was ready to execute it. Too bad she wouldn’t be given the opportunity.

“There, miss,” Dot whispered, and Phryne followed the nod of her friend’s head across the field to where a man leaned against the far corner of the tent, one hand on his hip, his demeanor bored. No one else looking at Jack Robinson (she might have chosen her outlaw name as a nod to this man) would guess that he was anything but the dissolute chevalier he pretended to be—his doublet was royal blue velvet, and the glass goblet that dangled from the long fingers of his right hand was half-full of a ruby red liquid. 

Phryne knew better, though. He was taking everything in, from the driven demeanor of the sheriff to every person milling around the stands. She could tell when his eyes found her, as well, by the momentary tightening of his shoulders. She could also tell that he was as amused as he was worried by the small curl of a smile on his lips and the minute shake of his head. With a broad smile, she started across to the table where competitors were being noted down, her hips swaying.

“Gentlemen, I have a name for your lists,” she announced when she reached them. Placing her hands on the edge of the table, she leaned over, watching as their eyes drifted to the view of her cleavage. Men. So predictable.

“Who’s that, darlin’?” The one with the quill didn’t even bother to lift his eyes to hers. “He going to be leaving you unattended while he competes?”

“Friar Tobias,” she replied sweetly, and the man’s eyes jumped to her own, the surprise in them evident. “He’ll be here momentarily, and my friend and I—” the man’s eyes drifted to Dot and _her_ bosoms, and widened even more “—are here to cheer him on.”

The man’s expression twisted into a knowing smirk. Phryne didn’t mind—many friars were known for the debauchery of their nights rather than the piety of their days—and it was a handy fiction in times like this. Truth was, Friar Tobias had been married once, and he hadn’t wanted another woman since his wife died. Theirs was a love story for the ages, and it plus Tobias’s willingness to do whatever was necessary for the cause Phryne served made him one of her most trusted people.

“Well, if either of you get bored, feel free to come see me,” the man said as he wrote the friar’s name on his list. “I’ll make sure you’re well entertained.” This last was accompanied by a lick of his lips, as if his meaning was not already clear.

“No, thank you,” Phryne said with a wide smile, turning and taking Dot by the elbow. “I’m certain the last thing we’ll be today is bored.” 

The man dismissed, Phryne and Dot moved off toward the stands. They needed a place to watch with a view of both the field of archers and the prince’s tent. Glancing over her shoulder, Phryne caught Jack’s eyes—he made a small motion with his head, and she nodded back, her head barely moving with the motion.

“Here, Dot,” she said, when they’d reached a corner of the stands, “I’m going to go find a treat—save a seat for me?”

“Yes miss,” Dot replied. “Don’t take too long—the event will be starting soon.” 

“Just a quick taste,” Phryne assured her with a wink. “Then I’ll be back, I promise.”

With that, Phryne turned and slipped through the crowd to the outer edge of the contest field, then toward the woods that stood to the back of the prince’s lavish tent. As she rounded the corner, she saw a flash of blue just beyond the treeline—with a smirk, she headed quickly in that direction, knowing what awaited her.

Only a few feet inside the woods, Phryne passed a wide-trunked oak and her smirk became a grin as an arm shot out to grasp her around the waist and pull her up against a broad chest. She had time to register the hand that cupped her cheek before her lips were covered in a kiss that set her afire. The familiar taste of his lips, then his tongue as he deepened the kiss, drew a soft groan out of her chest, and she wrapped her arms around his neck to kiss him back. 

For long minutes, there was no talking between them except that of their bodies reveling in their closeness after so long apart. Well before either was truly ready, Jack broke the kiss, lifting his head a tiny fraction of an inch, and Phryne could feel his chest heaving against hers; the gust of his breath, sweet with the wine he’d been sipping, bathed her face.

“My darling outlaw, what the hell are you doing here?” His tone was warm, the deep timbre of his voice caressing her skin like the brush of velvet. “Don’t you know it’s a trap? George is positively aching to jail Robin Hood, and Rosie is determined not to let him down this time. If you’re caught…”

“I won’t be competing, Jack,” she assured him with a smile, rising on her toes to brush her lips across his, a simple back-and-forth motion just because she could. “I only came to see you. Do you think you can get away this evening? I would love to see more of you.” She arched against him, loving the feel of his aroused body against hers.

“Minx,” Jack murmured, his hand on her waist sliding lower to push her closer to the hardest part of him. “We leave in the morning, but yes, I should be able to go out tonight.”

“I’ll meet you in the inn’s stables, then,” she breathed. “We can discuss… strategy.”

“I do love strategy,” he growled, and then he kissed her again and no more words were spoken for some time.

When Phryne slipped into the seat beside Dot, her lips were swollen and she was out of breath, but her smile was slyly happy. 

“I take it you had your congratulations, then,” Dot murmured, laughter in her voice as she applauded the first of the archers to compete.

“It was practically a fete in my honor,” Phryne agreed quietly. “We’ll be staying until morning, by the way.” 

“I never doubted it,” came Dot’s dry reply. Phryne looked at her, finding her friend’s eyes already on her, and her amusement obvious in the twinkling of her eyes.

“I have it on good authority that the prince’s party will be heading out at first light, and we know that he never travels without plenty of gold.” Phryne waggled her eyebrows at Dot. “Perhaps Robin Hood will make an appearance at this event after all.”

“Albert and Cecil will be pleased to be useful, I’m sure,” Dot said, “they’d be disappointed to come all this way only to wait in the woods.” 

Phryne grinned, her thoughts turning to the best way to rob a prince’s entourage. As hard as it could be to live the life of an outlaw, there were moments that were sheer fun, and making Prince George apoplectic with rage would be one of them. Her smile turned sly as she wondered if Jack would let her search him for valuables. There was only one way to find out, and she was truly looking forward to it.


End file.
